All over-mountain men rode well, and their mounts were the envy of both red and white thieves. Among the saddle-bred, however, Chucky Jack was given the palm. Until he reached the French Broad, he spurred along openly, sticking to the trail. The occasional settlers he encountered invariably caught up their arms and made for their horses, only to be told their leader rode alone. After crossing the river the little clearings were more scattered and the approach of the rider brought the gaunt border-men to sharp attention, rifles ready, until he shouted his name.
Once south of the Broad he traversed a land where Death stalked abreast of each passing minute and the husbandman worked with his rifle at his side and the children were taught not to stray from the cabin door. For this was the ragged edge of Western life, where the first threads would be unraveled should the red scourge essay to tear its way to the mountains. On the right of the Great War-Path were scattered the homes of the Holston folks, a tense, grim people waiting for what the next hour might bring them.
Once below the rough parallelogram formed by the Watauga, the Holston and the Nolichucky, the horseman had left the settlements behind him and rode more circumspectly. The site of what was to be Knoxville would not receive its first visit from white men, James White and James Connor, for another three years. A tavern and a court-house marked the beginning of Greeneville. Below this “settled” area were a few “stations,” as the blockhouses were called, consisting of the usual stockade inclosing a few small cabins. Invariably these cases of civilization were girt about by the primeval forests.
“Sevier rides alone!” was the word flashed from clearing to clearing on both sides of the Great Trail, and men wondered, and women called the children indoors and stoically awaited the result of the wild gallop.
For Chucky Jack, their idol, was not given to racing into the wilderness unless spurred on by the imperative.
At the Tellico crossing Sevier met a frightened hunter who said he had seen a white man, riding like mad.
“Was there a girl with him?” asked Sevier.
No; he was alone, it seemed.
With a word of thanks Sevier warned:
“Get back to the Broad! This country won’t be safe for any honest white man.” And with a prick of the spur he was darting away.